


Five times Dennis Broke Mac's Heart (and one time he didn't)

by spongebobmeboy



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Drabbles, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post 12/10, Smut, highschool, post hs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spongebobmeboy/pseuds/spongebobmeboy
Summary: Co-dependence was a myth created by liberal yahoos who wanted Mac to think about his emotions and label shit like he was some kitschy old lady running a craft store. One of these liberal yahoos was Dee, who clearly didn't understand the perfectly normal bond between two bros who checked in on each other every hour and watched Predator every Tuesday. She didn't have friends though, and she was a woman. Women were stupid.Five times Dennis Broke Mac's Heart (and one time he didn't)





	1. Cigarette Butts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, first story on this website and definitely first time writing fanfic in a while , so go easy on me. Kudos and reviews are appreciated, I'll be uploading each section one chapter at a time.

Mac had known Charlie since he was too young to really remember anything other than roaring train engines, an empty house, and a pebble clutched in his tiny hand like a lifeline. He’d known him as they wheezed on his mom’s burnt out cigarette butts and yelled at cats. Known him through them huffing glue in Charlie’s mom’s basement as they frantically grabbed at each other in a mass of tangled desperate limbs, (for wrestling). Known him through countless hazy days and nights and laughs and tears.

They had people flitting in and out of their circle. Psycho Pete, Schmitty, (who Charlie hadn't talked to much anyways), and that freaky Aluminum Monster who sat at their lunch table with her sidekick Fatty Magoo because rejects stuck together.

And Charlie and Mac were rejects. Ronnie the Rat and the Dirtgrub, lowest of the low. They were pothead, socially impaired freaks. Without Mac’s easy drug access and Charlie’s ability to blindly eat or snort anything to avoid getting hung by his frayed underpants on the bathroom stall, they would have been obliterated in the high school food chain. As it was they were barely scraping by. 

Nothing quite penetrated their bond, and nothing ever really could in Mac’s eyes. 

At least until a fateful Wednesday afternoon that really felt like any other. Mac and Charlie were smoking weed under the bleachers as per-usual after school. Neither of them felt a particular urge to return to their respective homes, as they did on most days. 

Dennis Reynolds wasn't anything unusual. Rich party boy looking to score pot, characteristically clueless about prices or how much he was supposed to be buying. Mac had a fleeting knowledge of him. He was weird kid at the end of their freak table who proclaimed himself to be a “Golden God” who occasionally flitted over to the cluster of popular kids only to be repeatedly rejected outright. Charlie had to show him how to roll a blunt and before they knew what was happening he was sitting right down besides them. First it was just that Wednesday, then Thursday, then everyday because it turned out he didn't want to go home either. 

Sure he was arrogant, but Mac couldn't deny that there was something so incredibly intriguing about his baby blue eyes, his thin salmon lips, typically pursed in a condescending sneer. All, well maybe not all, but most, of his perceptions of the guy melted away as him and Charlie readily absorbed him into the ring. He was just as if not more dark and scheming than them, more low and depraved. Mac couldn't figure out how someone so rich could be so sad. If he had money he reckoned he probably wouldn't be crouched in the dirt huffing whatever toxic substance Charlie could scrounge up for him. 

Usually the three of them hung out, but as Dennis became closer and closer to the two other boys Mac noticed Charlie sending him knowing looks. Usually when a good natured pat from Dennis lingered slightly longer than necessary on Mac’s shoulder, or the two’s lips were oddly close as they both leaned in for a light. 

Charlie started making excuses for leaving early after school. He had to go whack dogs with Psycho Pete, or do laundry with his mom, or even hang out with Dennis’s freak sister. This left Mac and Dennis alone, and without Charlie’s constant catalogue of inhalants they'd retreat to Mac’s place.

Time alone with Dennis was somehow different than Charlie . The air felt like warm honey dripping around the two of them when they drunkenly watched reruns on his mom’s ancient shoebox TV. When Mac was alone with him he was frozen in time, or at least he could pretend he was, along with other things. 

Pretend that this was just the brew of new friendship tepidly bubbling in Mac’s chest like a volcano about to explode. Pretend he couldn't feel Dennis’s hot breath puffing on his cheeks as he muttered delusional nothing's about his future and his dreams before drifting off on his shoulder. Pretending, no, knowing that there was nothing weird about them keeping the pay-per-view porn channel on when Dennis accidently hit the wrong button on the remote, and absolutely nothing weird about Mac watching Dennis and Dennis watching him rather than the blurry naked figures on the screen. 

That last thing had happened a couple times before one day Dennis didn't show up after school. And then another day and another day and another day came and went. Mac didn't see Dennis at their lunch table either, but he saw him on the edge of the flock of popular kids by the lockers in the hallway after biology. On the edge, but still contained within the group. 

Mac stomped up to him, excitement and anger clouding his brain as he came within steps of the boy. 

“Den?” He asked, and momentarily Dennis’s eyes broke away from whatever miscellaneous bozo he had just been chatting up. 

Dennis gave him a visible once over, and then his nose wrinkled in disgust. “Ronnie the rat,” he said flatly. He derisively chuckled along with the rest of the group, who all mirrored his disdainful look. 

Mac felt rage bubbling in his throat like sour bile. Dennis couldn't even face him like a man, use his words and his fists rather than his delusions of godliness to squish him like a bug.

So Mac decided to be the bigger guy, and socked him across the jaw.

For the briefest second Mac could see a flash of hurt on Dennis’s face, thinly veiled by shock and pain. But it quickly contorted into fury, and the other boy raised his hand in the air. Too slow. Mac took advantage of his bulkier size and lept onto the skinnier boy, dragging him down to the floor. He straddled his thin hips and leveled his fist with that perfect chiseled nose.

A ringing filled Mac’s ears and everything gained a certain blurry red quality as he blindly pummeled Dennis. He rained blows down on his face, his stomach, anywhere he could hit. He couldn't feel any pain other than Den pathetically scratching against his cheek as his back soundly thumped on the linoleum tile. That was the only fight he put up, after he just limply lay there like some pathetic rag doll, his bruised eyes rolling back in his head as he choked on his own blood.

Dennis’s new friends didn't seem to really care about him getting beat up, but rather they reveled in it, They formed a ring around the two of them, their shouting and screaming coagulating into a roaring cacophony of angry bees. 

The fight might have lasted 30 seconds, it might have been 10 hours. But it abruptly ended when the smell of sweat and glue encapsulated Mac as a pair of deceptively strong wiry arms grabbed around his waist, yanking him away from the mess on the floor. 

Someone, it looked like that big guy Adriano with the slicked back hair, violently kicked at Mac’s ribs as he was dragged away, roaring in laughter when it landed with a resounding crack. Shooting white hot pain spasmed across Mac’s form and all of the air was knocked out of him. He choked on air, tears springing into his eyes.

Charlie had to hoist him up and firmly grasp him around the waist as he limped off. He was screaming at him, wondering what the hell he was thinking but Mac couldn't decipher any of it. Instead he just leaned into his touch and tried to think of simpler days of ashy cigarette butts and wrestling auditions. 

As Charlie’s high pitched yelling cut over the humdrum Mac looked back at his handiwork, at the pale form laying on the floor. Dennis was somehow still conscious, and he looked up at him too, his swollen bruised lips twisting into a self satisfied sneer as concerned girls from the crowd helped him up, cooing over his battered face. Mac felt something other than his rib breaking.

“What the fuck man,” Charlie growled in his ear as they limped off. “I..-We had a real good thing going, I was just getting close to Dee-I mean Dennis, we were all buddies, what'd you do that for?!” 

Mac touched the spot in his cheek where a pale, weak drop of blood had just began to bubbled. “He isn't my ‘buddy’,” he growled. He sucked the metallic substance off his fingers.

Just weeks later Mac slept with Dennis’s prom date. He couldn't get it up with her, definitely because she was super ugly. So instead he just imagined Dennis’s hurt face as he thrust into her, imagined smugly grinning at him as the other boy sat in the corner, watching him with a pained expression on his face. That did the trick.

When Dennis returned a couple years later, a college flunk out, begging to move in with Mac like they were 17 and nothing had happened, he lied and said it was Tim Murphy who’d done it. He felt like it would only hurt more if he told the truth.


	2. Cold Streets

Co-dependence was a myth created by liberal yahoos who wanted Mac to think about his emotions and label shit like he was some kitschy old lady running a craft store. One of these liberal yahoos was Dee, who clearly didn't understand the perfectly normal bond between two bros who checked in on each other every hour and watched Predator every Tuesday. She didn't have friends though, and she was a woman. Women were stupid.

Unfortunately Dennis was also liberal yahoo at heart despite his contradicting convictions, or lack thereof. The dumb man-stealing bird managed to rope his roommate in with the “co-dependent” bullshit and Mac found himself going along with it. He felt like it would be easier somehow. But he felt it again as he left their apartment, that strange twist in his chest like a noose around his heart. He looked back at Dennis and he didn't have that grin on his face from all those years ago in the hallway. He looked like he was feeling the same thing Mac was and somehow that was worse.

When they reunited at the restaurant Mac lied to Dennis and said Dee had told him he would be meeting a large breasted woman. She had actually just flat out told him he would be eating dinner with Dennis. Which is all he really wanted, but he felt like he was choking on the butterflies in his stomach (the manly bro who was nervous he’d have a fight with his friend butterflies), so he gulped down as much alcohol as he could muster while he waited.

Dennis told him Dee had said he'd be meeting a large breasted woman too, and he saw something knowing in his eyes, but he never really could tell what was truth and not with Dennis. 

Mac and Dennis were men of routines, and had been for the countless years they had lived together. Their lives were chaotic to say the least. But Mac could always count on movie night on Tuesday, an hourly notification on his phone, monthly dinner at Guigino's, Dennis knocking on his door at 3 in the afternoon with a knowing smile and a tape held in his hand, and countless other things that acted like staples when Mac felt as though he might fall apart. 

Mac was a worrier. Things always had to have some kind of logic in his usually muddled eyes; a stimulus had to have its assigned response. He lived in an immensely stratified black and white world, and when something went wrong he panicked. 

It was 7 o’clock on Tuesday movie night. Mac had made popcorn, peeled Dennis an apple, and the man was nowhere to be found. 

It wasn't a huge deal. He could tell himself it wasn't a huge deal and shove it in the back of his head and breathe because Dennis would think it was dumb if he didn't. He'd scoff at Mac being inches away from calling the police. He'd laugh out loud at the other man breathing so fast he felt like it wasn't even his lungs in control anymore but instead God himself clenching and un-clenching his chest in a vice like grip. 

It was 8 o’clock. The apple was brown and Mac’s nail beds were raw and bleeding. He decided to give Charlie a call. The man was grunting when he picked up, something about Frank dangling him down into the floorboards to extract cockroaches, an unmined resource. 

“Why would Dennis be here,” he panted. “It’s movie night.”

He called up Dee’s cell. She told him to fuck off, why would she know what Dennis was up to.

Mac ran outside, and the chilly Philly air cut into his bare arms like a million little knives but he was still sweating, the slick of it running down his neck and receding down his spine. 

The dark was closing in on him in slippery tendrils, roping around him and choking him out. Their place wasn't too far from Paddy’s, and that was where Mac first went. 

The building was dark and deserted, Mac’s steps eerily echoed in the alley way as he went around to the back exit. He was more focused on not getting stabbed than what he had originally set out to do. But before he could make a frantic exit back out into the lit street a scrap of fabric caught his eye.

A tie. More specifically a red striped tie, which practically looked new despite laying on the ground amongst trash and muddy puddles. Mac wouldn't have thought much of it other than the fact that he knew Dennis only had one tie to his name, him and the others at Paddy’s hardly ever had to dress up. And it was lying right there on the steps.

This was a prank. This was all an elaborate scheme set up by the others to fuck him around. Mac knew it, this was the new truth he pushed into his head and made real. Everything was fine and Dennis was fine and it was all a nice joke.

Mac hammered on Charlie’s door. No response, so he went for the knob, which was unsurprisingly unlocked. He slammed the door open, fists balled and ready. 

“Now listen up Dennis I know-!” Mac froze, hand pointing in the air as he surveyed the scene before him.

Charlie was lying on the pullout futon, a sheet pulled up to his bare chest as he stared blankly at Mac, mouth ajar. This wasn't an entirely bizarre sight, at least until Mac’s eyes panned to the kitchen, where Dee was standing. She was clad only in a pair of black lacy underwear and a bra, and was stood by over the counter with a loaf of bread. Mac assumed she was making a sandwich, and knew for sure her choked expression perfectly mirrored Charlie’s.

Mac wrinkled his nose, his earlier worry temporarily forgotten. “Jesus Christ Dee, get some clothes on, no one wants to see-oh.” He looked between her and Charlie. “You two were…” 

“Nope!” Dee proclaimed, setting the bread down as her face went red. “We were filming..acting… A scene for a movie… about a woman who likes to not wear clothes…” 

“A film… T-to practice…” continued Charlie, sitting up. His cheeks were a similar beet like color. “For the Waitress… Because the Waitress likes-”

“God dammit Charlie,” Dee exclaimed, hand in her hip. She turned to Mac. “Fine, you got us we were-”

“I don't care!” said Mac, shaking his head frantically. The worry from earlier was setting in like lead in his stomach. “Where's Dennis?” 

Dee blinked. “What?” 

“Dennis!” Mac called, entering further into the room. He lifted a cushion near Charlie’s foot, causing him to flinch. “Where are you, I know you're in here buddy!” 

Upon seeing the confused look on both of their faces, Mac felt compelled to explain. “You guys, it's the prank. The prank you all have been pulling, it's why Dennis is gone and you two are-” he waved his hand at Dee, who still hadn't made any move to cover up.

Dee gave a disgusted shout. “Oh my god why would my brother be here while we are-never mind. He's not here, and I don't know what this prank is you're going on about.” Charlie nodded in agreement, the two of them looking expectantly at Mac. 

Mac felt as though her words were cold balls of ice thudding down into his stomach. “There's no prank?” 

“No, but ooh I think I see him!” Charlie suddenly shouted. He had sat in bed, pointing into the hallway. Mac perked up, and frantically ran outside. The dingy space was entirely empty, and Mac turned away from its flickering lights to tell Charlie so, only to met by Dee’s smug smile as she slammed the door in his face.

Mac had no idea what the right thing to do was. It was 11 o’clock and he was trudging down the sidewalk, cold and wet and disappointed in himself for caring so much. He wanted nothing more than Dennis to just come around every passing corner he encountered, warm and safe and telling him he was fine, he had just left the apartment to get more food and got stuck in traffic.

He opened the door after trudging up a flight of steps, ready to call the cops or pass out, whatever came faster. 

Dennis was sitting on the couch, knees pulled up against his chest and his eyes wide. Mascara streamed down his cheeks, and his shirt was unbuttoned down to his chest. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mac gasped, letting out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. He put his hands over his mouth and shut his eyes momentarily, silently thanking God. “Where were you? Movie Tuesday??” 

Dennis said nothing, and Mac plopped down on the couch next to him. “Dude, what is it?” 

Dennis then looked at him with bloodshot eyes, blinking slowly even as tears steadily flowed down his cheeks. Tears, it took a second to register in Mac’s head. Dennis never cried. He could see that the other man was constantly shuddering too, entirely drenched. Water dripped down the sparse hair and smooth planes of his chest from his dripping, disheveled locks. The momentary relief was gone, Mac’s heart was pounding like an avalanche. 

“Didya know I could've beens-so much more?” Dennis slurred, and Mac wondered how much he could have drank to actually be so shit faced. 

“What happened, man?” Mac asked, and he put a hand on his shoulder. Dennis roughly shrugged it off, but Mac ignored the physical cue, taking a throw blanket from the arm of the couch and tucking it around his damp shoulders. Dennis didn't try to push it off, but didn't try to pull it tighter around himself either. 

“Applied for a job,” Dennis dead panned, absentmindedly twisting his fingers. “Animal hospital. Faked a resume said-d I wassa vet.” He looked at Mac, holding his hand out. “Nobody in, broke a window.” It was then that he noticed his hands were violently torn up, rivulets of blood streaming down his open palms. 

“Oh my god,” Mac murmured, and he quickly ran to the bathroom, nauseated by the sight but swallowing it back as he grabbed ace bandages from the medicine cabinet and a rag, soaking it in cold water and wringing it out. 

Mac heard the floor creaking behind him, and looked only to see Dennis swaying on his feet, his skin the color of a graying egg that had been left in the fridge several weeks past expiration.

Mac had the foresight to jump out of the way from his spot in by the toilet as Dennis lurched forward, groaning as any of the alcohol left in his stomach promptly exited into the bowl. Mac rubbed his back as he went limp over the porcelain surface, flushed it, and then helped him clamber up so he was sitting on the lid, Mac kneeling on the tiles before him. 

At first he just held Dennis’s hands in his as he soaked up the blood, wrapped him up and hoped there wasn't any glass trapped under his skin. But soon he was wiping off his arms, his gray sooty cheeks, soothingly running the cloth over his pale clammy forehead. Maybe it was an apology, him caressing his skin after he had damaged it all those years ago. But soon it was nothing more than him repeatedly running his hands through Dennis’s hair as the other man completely broke down, falling into his arms and heaving into his shoulder. Dennis was stuck in some place between hardly breathing and hyperventilating, wheezing as his body was wracked by sobs. 

Mac straightened up and tucked his arms under his legs, trying to lift his friend with ease but buckling under the weight. Thankfully Dennis’s room was right next door, and he quickly staggered in, trying to gracefully place him down on the bed. 

Mac then moved to leave, but Dennis’s hand crawled out of nowhere in the dark, clasping on his arm. 

“Please stay,” Dennis pleaded.

And of course Mac did. Of course he unbuttoned the rest of Dennis’s shirt and peeled it off of his pallid flesh, of course he removed his socks and shoes and pants and tried so so hard not to scan over every ridge and plane of his practically emancipated form because he was worried and he just needed to check that he was ok. 

Of course Mac pulled off his own shoes and lay right down next to Dennis on top of the covers because that was what friends did and Dee just didn't understand them. 

Dee didn't understand how in a few seconds flat Mac was 16 again and Dennis was there but instead of him breathing into his shoulder as he confessed his dreams he lay across from him on a bed that was just too soft in a room that was just too dark. The time had long since passed for dreaming and Dennis was vacantly staring at him with his mouth slightly hanging open; he no longer had any hopes left to tell him. 

It was so dark that Mac honestly thought Dennis had finally drifted off after a few moments of lying there, so he carefully pulled himself into a sitting position with the intent to quietly exit. But then the hand came back, and before Mac could really register what was happening Dennis was right in front of his face and he was kissing him.

It was sloppy, tasted sour and had all too much teeth for it to be remotely nice. Not that it was supposed to be nice at all in the first place because it was a man, his best friend nonetheless. Mac ripped his face away, exclaiming in disgust and he felt anger simmering in his stomach. He felt betrayed, perhaps by the sad excuse of a man slumped in front of him, or maybe by his own body as he felt himself physically responding to the touch. 

Mac wanted to yell in Dennis’s face, tell him he was going to hell and that that was a sin. But he just didn't find it in him as he searched his dead eyes for some kind of response. He was so immensely out of it he probably didn't even realize what he had just done. Mac just pressed his lips together silently and turned away, walking out of the room and shutting the door softly behind him.

The next morning was all routine. Coffee on the burner and cereal on the counter. They were both up at 8 o’clock sharp to go open up the bar. Dennis didn't ask, and Mac didn't tell. But something splintered in him as he watched Dennis humming a tune as he locked up the apartment. He could still feel his lips burning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opinions appreciated!


	3. Dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for longer upload time, I've already written most of this but I've been making changes in terms of order and such, so bear with me. Thank you so much for any kudos and comments I've received! I really do appreciate any comments , it's been a while since I've written fanfic so please feel free to leave feedback. Enjoy!

There was a certain nonchalance to the group that dictated a great deal of what they did. Mac knew deep down that none of them had led particularly happy or meaningful lives, but they shoved it down and repressed it, because confronting what they really were about was just plain depressing, no one wanted to do that. 

Mac knew his dad didn't love him. Hell, neither did his mom despite her having at least been there to raise him. Mac never acknowledged this though, and so for both the group and himself he’d say his parents loved him. It was weird, he could simultaneously know something to be true but also create a new truth that he operated under even if they totally contradicted each other. 

The truth, the real truth that Mac knew deep down was only reinforced by his dad never replying to his letters. God he had no idea how many he had written. He had been sitting down and jotting them out religiously since his dad had gone back to prison because of him and Charlie. What was that saying, that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? That was another truth that Mac decided to ignore.

It was almost better if his dad didn't reply, because then Mac could pretend there wasn't a person on the other end at all. He began to divulge some seriously heavy stuff, things he hadn't told the Dennis, the rest of the gang, sometimes things he was only just beginning to tell himself. It was like confession, except no one was telling him his thoughts, his urges were a sin. It would be nice if his dad replied, told him he loved and respected him no matter what he did or who he loved. But this was still gratifying.

Then the day came the boat tipped over and was the hold was filling up with water. Everyone was certain that this was it. Mac and the rest of the gang were only standing in knee deep water but he already felt like he was drowning. He didn't know why though. He should be elated, he had confessed what he had only previously written down in crumpled letters to his dad to the group, and he could die authentic to himself. 

But Mac’s dad had been replying to those letters and Dennis, that sick fuck piece of shit who had the audacity to pretend he felt an ounce of guilt, had been keeping them from him. 

Mac was used to a fire burning in his lungs, adrenaline pumping through his veins to give him the strength to physically annihilate anything that made him feel this useless. But God he was so tired so he just lay down and hoped he would forget this had happened in whatever afterlife let him in. 

But maybe the fire was just a slow burn because as soon as they got out of that god forsaken cruise and Mac shoved everything down because apparently THIS was where feelings got you, he exploded. He could feel it brimming in him when him and Dennis shut the door to Dee’s apartment; she was still at the bar. But he didn't unleash what he was feeling until Dennis went into the kitchen to grab some cereal, and asked him if he wanted some.

“You good for nothing piece of shit,” Mac growled, and Dennis turned to him, eyes wide. 

He felt like the surface of his skin was vibrating from all the pent up rage bubbling up in him. He hardly noticed Dennis coming up to him, his cold hands clasping around his cheeks. Dennis was right there, and Mac knew the concern on his face was fake as shit because he was a fucking sociopath but his heart still jumped at the sight of his worried eyes.

“Mac, baby boy, what is it?” Dennis asked, and his bony fingers traced circles on his face.

Mac pushed him away in disgust. “Don't touch me!” He glowered at Dennis, who looked confused despite Mac knowing he knew full well what he'd done wrong. “Why'd you keep my dad’s letters from me?”

The confusion was quickly replaced by a look of bored distaste. Dennis wrinkled his nose. “Really?” he drawled condescendingly. “You're still upset by that?”

Mac’s fists started trembling and he stared at Dennis, mouth agape. Dennis clearly wasn't reading the situation, the severity of his emotions, because he just rolled his eyes. “The guy never even had a relationship with you anyways, what does it matter to you?” he chuckled.

Mac couldn't even tell if he was crying or if it was a combination of dehydration and blind rage, but his vision went entirely blurry. His throat was raw to the point where he felt like he was screaming, for all he knew he could have been. He drunkenly swayed forward and pushed all of the shit off of Dee’s coffee table, letting out a guttural yell.  
In his peripheral he could see Dennis backing away as he drove his fist into the feeble wood surface, a certain satisfaction hitting him when the intensity of his punch caused the wood to splinter like a spiderweb.

“Jesus fucking Christ Mac!” Dennis screeched, and Mac looked up like wild cat in the middle of feasting on its prey, interrupted by a new target. He straightened up unsteadily and walked towards the other man, the newly broken surface of his knuckles burning as the cool air danced against it. 

“You don't know what it's like. You don't know what it's like to not have a dad. You don't know how I'm feeling.” Mac muttered darkly.

“Get away! Stop this creepy shit! What is your problem??” Dennis blustered as Mac drew nearer and nearer. He kept backing away into the kitchen, and Mac kept advancing until his back was flush against the counter, their two faces inches from each other. Dennis’s eyes were practically crossed as he stared into his eyes and for some reason Mac let this linger, whatever tension was bubbling between them 

But it was abruptly broken as Dennis shoved into his chest, causing Mac to stumble away. He blinked, like he had been broken out of some kind of stupor, but anger still bubbled in his stomach. 

“Fine?? Fine!! You really want to know?! You really want to know why I kept this shit from you??” Dennis yelled. 

Mac just stared at him, still caught somewhere between blind rage and trying to rationalize what Dennis had just said to him. He hadn't thought there had been a reason, just that Dennis got his sick kicks out of hurting him. Without a response the other man angrily scoffed and stormed past him into his room, 

“At first it was dumb shit, I didn't even know the letters were for you so I was just throwing them off to the side along with any of Dee’s stupid mail. But then a few months ago I opened one up and this was what it was,” Dennis yelled from a distance. He momentarily came back with something clutched in his hand.

“This, you dumb ass!” Dennis seethed. “I was keeping you from this shit and I don't even get a fucking thank you!” He shoved an envelope into Mac’s chest. 

Mac snatched it away from him, reaching into the roughly ripped opening with no hesitation. But as he pulled out the paper he froze, his heart beating in his ears.

Before Mac unfolded it he heard a rustling across the room, and looked up. Dennis was putting on his coat, making his way to the door. But he paused before he opened it, waiting momentarily. He looked down at the folded paper Mac held in his hands, and bit his lip. He then looked up at Mac, with some indecipherable mixture of anger and pity.

“Don't you dare tell me for one second I don't know how that feels,” Dennis spat, nodding at the paper. 

Mac looked down, toying with it for a second before unfolding it. It read as following:

Regarding your last letter, I don't care if you are into men or women. I don't care because I don't care about you at all. Stop writing me. 

Mac tried to swallow, but he felt like his throat was closing. He looked up just as the door slammed shut. 

Don’t you dare tell me for one second I don't know how that feels,

Mac felt the weight of an axe splitting down his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts are appreciated!


End file.
